


We Live to Serve and Aim to Please

by vetiverite



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Shopping, Fili and Kili are Helping, Gen, POV Second Person, Personal Assistants for Hire, Wine, bad life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vetiverite/pseuds/vetiverite
Summary: You should have known what would happen when you called the number on that stupid flyer.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	We Live to Serve and Aim to Please

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187011796@N05/50738619691/in/dateposted-public/)  


____________

You open the front door expecting to greet someone at eye level. You’re about thirteen inches off.

They push past you and stand in the center of the foyer, hands on hips, checking out the joint. _Nice,_ murmurs one to the other. Just before you manage to muster up a _NOW WAIT JUST A MINUTE_ they both whirl to greet you with tremendous fanfare.

_FÍLI!_ shouts the cocky blond.

_KÍLI!_ shouts the fierce brunet. 

Then, with a nearly synchronous bow, they _both_ shout, _AT YOUR SERVICE!_

_Are you_ sure _you’re not elves?_ you joke. It does not land well. 

_We’re VERY sure,_ says the blond.

_It says so on the FLYER,_ adds the brunet.

_Umm… right. Well, then,_ you mumble. _I suppose we should sit down and talk it over._

You usher them into the living room, where they both throw themselves onto the sofa like a pair of overeager dachsunds. Their feet don’t even reach the floor. You take in their matching ugly Christmas sweaters (“PRANCER” and “EVEN PRANCIER”.) and absolute lack of any sort of professional luggage, unless a Moomin backpack counts. You wonder if perhaps “freelance” is an understatement. 

But you remain optimistic, because you have no choice. Christmas is a week away, and you haven’t even started to prep. Desperation pushed you to rip a tab off that strange flyer in the supermarket, take a deep breath, pick up the phone, and order yourself some prompt, cheerful, dedicated, not-elf helpers.

You poor sap.

_So!_ you call out, bringing in the tea tray. _How does this work?_

Your potential employees glance at each other. _Dunno,_ one says (you still haven’t worked out who’s who). _You tell us what you need done, and we do it, I guess._

_But I imagine you have a prospectus to show me._ They look even more perplexed, so you attempt to give their memories a nudge. _A description of your method? Some kind of contract to sign? Official paperwork?_

_We don’t do PAPERWORK,_ huffs the blond.

_That’s not on the FLYER,_ puffs the brunet.

Was it unreasonable for you to hope that the backpack contained a laptop registry or gift wrap swatches or even a pocket notebook to jot down instructions? Should you instead worry that it contains zip ties and ether?

(What it contains, as a matter of fact, is candy. Lots and lots and lots of candy.)

You clear your throat and keep one eye on the nearest exit. _Well then. I suppose we’ll start with what I expect out of this…_ arrangement _, and you tell me if it’s something you can do. I warn you, though, I have a very long list and I’m really behind the eight ball—_

They immediately snicker and elbow each other. 

_She said BEHIND,_ whispers one.

_And BALL,_ whispers the other.

Something tells you they’re not here to hurt you. In ten minutes’ time, however, they WILL kidnap you.

_A friend of mine hired a professional shopper last year,_ you tell them, placing slight but tart emphasis on the word ‘professional’. _The shopper texted photos of each item on the list for her to approve, then settled up with her upon delivery. Do you provide this service?_

They stare at you as if you’ve just sprouted several extra noses. Kíli objects first. _You mean_ we’re _supposed to pay for things up front?_

_Yes, and then you bill me._

_And we’re supposed to go shopping_ without _you? You’re not coming_ with _us?_

This is truly the strangest job interview you’ve ever been a party to. You vaguely wonder if there’s a hidden camera involved.

_The whole point of being a personal shopper is that I tell you what I need,_ you explain very slowly and very clearly. _Then YOU go shop for it so that I’m free to get other things done._

_But we were counting on you for a ride,_ says Fili, looking rather put out _. It’s not like either of US drive._

You are flabbergasted by this announcement. _You don’t… Then how on earth did you get here?_

_We took the bus!_ Kíli beams, proud of their resourcefulness.

Fíli is less self-congratulatory. _They made us both pay adult fares,_ he mutters. _Should have been two for one._

And _that_ is how you find yourself behind the wheel with Kíli sitting right behind you, rhythmically kicking the back of the car seat and singing over and over and over and over, _SIMMM-ply HAAAV-ing a WON-derful CHRISS-mus TIIIIIME… SIMMM-ply HAAAV-ing a WON-derful CHRISS-mus TIIIIIME…_

You throw an imploring glance at Fili beside you in the passenger seat. _Does he HAVE to do that?_

_Yes. Once it’s in his head, there’s no stopping him._

_…CHRISS-mus TIIIIIME… SIMMM-ply…_

_There are other lyrics to the song, not just those_ , you plead.

Fíli raises an eyebrow. _There are? To think he’s been singing it for weeks, and we never even knew._

_…WON-derful CHRISS-mus…_

(Did they move the Mall, or what? It seems so much further away than it used to.)

Inside the biggest department store, you hand each brother a list. _So, my thought is, if we split up we’ll get this done much faster. Let’s each grab a cart and set a goal for two hours, and we’ll meet by the—_

_We’re not shopping together?_ Kíli looks crushed. _Where’s the fun in THAT?_

Fíli, too, appears horrified. _You can’t expect Kíli and me to shop separately. He’ll be lost within five minutes!_

Determined to remain patient, you force yourself to smile. _Again, the point is to_ help _me, and it would_ help _me if we accomplished this in the LEAST amount of time—_

_She doesn’t like us,_ Kili – sounding perilously on the edge of tears – hisses to Fíli. _She wants to tear us apart._

_That’s ridiculous,_ you scold. _I like you perfectly well, and I’m pretty sure wild rhinos couldn’t tear you two apart._

Now the both of them are in tears, clutching each other like two hapless orphans, which makes _you_ the evil headmistress. Or the wild rhino.

And _that_ is how you find yourself trundling along, pushing a single shopping cart while your two non-elf helpers swagger along on either side of you, pointing and hollering _Oooh LOOK!_ every five feet or so. It’s a surprisingly effective shopping method. Let’s look at your shopping list, shall we?

_Gifts purchased for family, friends, and colleagues:_ zero.

_Gifts purchased for Fíli and Kíli:_ one tub of rainbow Glitter Goo; one Samurai Shark blade-sharpener ( _As Seen on TV!);_ more candy to replace the candy whose wrappers now litter your car.

_Gifts purchased for yourself at Fíli and Kíli’s insistence:_ a set of cherry-red satin PJs that your companions offer to “help” you try on for size; a snow-white supersoft microfiber plush bathrobe; a comprehensive bath-and-massage gift basket labeled “Ginger Buttercream Sin”; a devilishly expensive battery of Japanese steel chef’s knives (urged on you by Fíli, who claims they’ll practically pay for themselves) and two very large bottles of Pinot (one Noir, one Grigio).

_Gifts purchased for all three of you:_ matching hoodies that say “ _It’s YULETIDE Bitches”_. 

_So that everyone knows we’re a POSSE,_ cries Kíli. He threatens to sing _SIMMM-ply HAAAV-ing a WON-derful CHRISS-mus TIIIIIME_ until you agree to wear the hoodie out of the store. You pay for it first, of course. But you must admit, you and your crew doing a badass squad walk past mall security holds a certain thrill.

_She’s our parole officer,_ Fíli tells the guard.

On the way home, Kíli blurts out, _So! How are Fíli and I doing, quality-control-wise?_

_I haven’t been pushed to thoughts of homicide, so I suppose you’re doing all right. As for quality control…_ You snort. _Quality, yes. Control, no._

_What do you mean?_

_We just… ran rampant. We bought everything for ourselves and nothing for anybody else on my list._

_Aren’t you happy, though?_ Fíli actually sounds concerned. _We picked out the gifts we thought you’d like best._

_I_ do _like them, thanks. But I don’t know if I can call something a ‘gift’ when I bought it for myself._

By now you’re pretty handy at reading Kíli’s eyebrows. They are not pleased. _But that’s the point,_ he tells you hotly. _You would never buy them for yourself, so we MADE you._

_I seem to recall you twisting my arm pretty hard about the Glitter Goo, too._

He grins. _I do love the Glitter Goo. I’m willing to share!_

_All over the place, I’m sure,_ you sigh.

Home now. Without quite remembering how you got there, you find yourself sinking into your sofa while Fíli busies himself removing your shoes. He parks your sock feet on the hassock and hands you a glass. My goodness! Did this wine open itself?

_What next?_ Kíli demands.

_Your flyer said you bake,_ you remind him. _I have the makings of a basic cookie dough, plus extra ingredients to jazz it up three different ways. Everything’s in there._ You wave your glass in the vague direction of your kitchen.

Kíli smirks. _We make the_ best _cookies. You wait._

_I_ will _wait—right here,_ you shoot back. _Let’s hope you’re telling the truth. And no visits from the fire truck._

Strangely, you’re not totally disappointed about how things have turned out. True, almost nothing’s been accomplished; the people on your list will find no packages from you under the tree or on their desk or in the mailbox. The greeting cards you so carefully selected may never get written in; their envelopes may go sadly unstamped and unlicked. But this wine is marvelous, isn’t it? And the smell of baking cookies makes you so deliciously sleepy. Fíli seems to be very good at foot massages… and Kíli is singing in the kitchen… thank god he’s picked a new song…

And _that_ is how you find yourself with new housemates.

You poor, poor, happy sap.


End file.
